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His eyes lock on mine, an unspoken question lingering there. I should be terrified, I know. A part of me is. Yet another part ofme, the part that’s been awakened by this man, finds it thrilling. I swallow, uncertain of what’s to come.
“What did you do?” I question.
“I ran into an old acquaintance. A guy who’s aware of my sentence. He was about to call the police in the parking lot of the bar, so I found a discarded metal pole and rammed it through his heart. I’d just gotten away with robbing the seven-eleven.”
He says that as if it’s standard, everyday conversation.
“Are you serious?”
His eyes meet mine. “Deadly. “
I realize there’s something fundamentally wrong with me as I feel something stir between my thighs at the sight of him in all his primal glory, splattered in blood with a mask over his face.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Why are you looking at me like that, starlight?”
I don’t know what it is about that nickname, but it only adds to the heat coursing through my veins.
“Like what?”
He smirks. “Like you want a ride on my dick.”
I clench my thighs together and shake my head. “I’m not.”
“You’re such a liar.” He stalks toward me. “Tell the truth. You like that I kill. When we first met, I knew you were my starlight because you crave darkness. Just as stars need the dark to shine, you need me,” he proclaims, stopping a foot away. “Stars can’t exist without darkness. They shine brighter and fiercer when they’re contrasted against the void. And you’re just like them.” His eyes burn into mine, and even though his words are terrifying, they have a strange truth. “You’re drawn to the chaos, to the madness, to the blood. You’re a star, Lila, and you need my darkness to truly shine.”
I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears, the heat of his gaze, the blood on his knuckles. Even though everything in me screams to run, I hold my ground.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ash,” I say, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. “I’m not attracted to this.” I gesture to him, the blood, the madness. “I’m not into the violence. The killing.”
He gives me a knowing smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Deny it all you want. But I see the truth in your eyes.” He grabs my waist and pulls me against his bloodstained clothes. “Do you like the mask too?”
I stare at him, looking into those dark eyes and wondering where my sanity went. He’s right that I’m turned on. More so than I’ve ever been before in my life. And before the rational part of my brain can argue, I lace my fingers in his medium-length dark hair and kiss him through the mouth hole in the mask. The fabric scratches against my skin.
The kiss is ferocious, like a whirlwind of need and possession. Every caution is shredded under the onslaught of his lips on mine.
He growls into my mouth, a primal sound that sends a shiver running down my spine.
His hands roam my body, making quick work of the buttons on my blouse before roughly pulling it off. His fingers trace patterns on my back, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touch.
I moan into his mouth, surrendering completely to the pleasure he’s igniting. Blocking out the small voice in my mind that tells me this is insane, wrong, fucked up.
He breaks away, leaving me gasping for breath. His eyes are dark, almost black with desire. But there’s something else. A hint of menace. Yet, it’s not enough to douse the fire.
“I’ve got something for you,” he says, his voice a rough whisper. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a length of rope. “Ever been tied up?”
I take a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. “No,” I admit, realizing the idea doesn’t scare me as much as it should. Instead, it deepens the ache between my thighs.
He strides forward, grabbing my wrists and tying them together with the rope. A shiver runs through me at the roughness of his touch, my breath hitching as he tightens the knot.
I look into his eyes, seeing the psycho within. And for some reason, that doesn’t scare me.
“You scared, Lila?” He taunts.
“Should I be?” I throw back, refusing to let him see me falter.
His lips curl into a smirk, his eyes sparkling with twisted amusement. “Maybe,” he says, leaning in so his lips graze my earlobe. His breath is hot against my skin. “But don’t you like living on the edge?” His hand trails down my side, coming to rest at my waist. He pulls me closer, erasing any space that was left between us. “Get ready for a dark ride.”
